


Snowy Sundays

by PlushRumps



Category: RWBY
Genre: Coffee Shops, First Kiss, M/M, these two are so sweet i cry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 16:08:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11211519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlushRumps/pseuds/PlushRumps
Summary: 'You meet up on a frosty sunday morning, scarves woven around necks and breath foggy in the crisp air, and you bask in one anothers’ presence as you walk a lap of the park.'A self-indulgent fluffy IronQrow fic.





	Snowy Sundays

**Author's Note:**

> Was trying to get through writer's block and this came out! These two boys are honestly my life.

It starts with a small upward tilt at the corner of his mouth, an ever so slight presence of emotion on his normally stoic, well-guarded expression. Those pretty baby blues seem to sparkle in the glow of the afternoon sun and his hair looks soft in the wind, immaculately styled but natural all at once. As time progresses, the two of you grow slowly closer. You meet up on a frosty Sunday morning, scarves woven around necks and breath foggy in the crisp air, and you bask in one anothers' presence as you walk a lap of the park. Meaningless conversation is shared between the two of you- the weather, the state of the world, what you had for dinner the previous night, but neither of you mind all that much. The company of the other beside you makes your heart skip a beat, palms sweaty within the confines of their gloves, soft but scratchy material concealing your emotional attachment to this pleasant nothingness that you have come to share together. You stop at a local coffee shop, the soft tingle of the doorbell summoning a staff member, all bushy tailed and bright-eyed, despite the hour of day. A soft booth in the corner overlooking the frozen pond quickly becomes your new home, visit after visit to this particular coffee shop filling you with a myriad of pleasant emotions, beautiful memories dancing across your consciousness. The warm, balmy environment welcomes you throughout the depths of winter, gloves and scarves shucked onto the table as the two of you share smiles and tender touches over mugs of steaming brews. The soft crinkle of his crows feet at the corner of his eyes makes your heart flutter, makes a warmth spread throughout your body that only mutual love and trust can create. As snow melts to slush and the sun re-emerges from hiding, the two of you continue to meet up every weekend, talking quietly about your plans for the day over steaming mugs, hands clasped together in an everlasting embrace, calluses all but forgotten as you stare deeply into one-another’s eyes.   
  
The first time you share a kiss, it’s a morning much like all of those before. James is sitting across from you, flesh hand wrapped around a lukewarm mug of black coffee, the other gesturing wildly as he complains about something or other at work- his boss, coworkers, the futility of trying to print during office hours. It’s a treat to see him this animated, this passionate, and you sigh happily as you watch him, staring deeply into those beautiful eyes, that constantly changing expression, those tender lips that produce a tone of voice so stunning and masculine that you’d never imagined such a thing could even exist. He stops mid-sentence and looks over at you, staring up at him like a lovestruck fool, and a slight frown tugs at his brow line. He forgets all about the story he was telling and pays you his full, undivided attention and _holy shit_ he’s so gorgeous, concern lining his face, a hand cupping yours, absorbing the radiant body heat that you constantly seem to produce. You chuckle quietly and wave him off, but he persists, and you sigh softly.  
  
“You’re gorgeous.” A soft blush dusts your cheeks and as soon as the words leave your lips his tone begins to match yours, his beautiful, soft skin bleeding out into a stunning array of hues. He chuckles softly and thanks you, head ducked slightly as the colour spreads to the tips of his ears, the last conversation well and truly forgotten. You lean in slightly and gently reach a hand up, caressing the side of his face gently, running a thumb along the barely there stubble ghosting his jawline. His eyes lock with yours and you feel the oxygen suddenly drain from your chest, taken aback for what feels like the tenth time in only moments, and you lick your lips dryly.  
  
“May I?” He nods ever so slightly, pupils dilating and you lean into the kiss and _oh fuck_ his lips are so soft against yours. Your hand slips from his face to the side of his arm and you savour the moment while it lasts, his lips gently and soft against yours, kiss chaste but beautiful all the same. The sudden ring of the coffee shop bell breaks you out of your mental haze and you slowly pull back, taking a moment to collect yourself before you look back up at the other man, heat positively radiating off your cheeks. He looks just as disoriented as you, eyes bleary and pupils dilated, cheeks heavy with blood and breath coming just a tad quicker than before. You lick your lips subconsciously and you catch the way his eyes flick down to your tongue, and you can’t help to laugh at the cliched nature of the situation. He chuckles softly along with you, his laughter music to your ears, and the fast pitter-patter of your heart tells you that you’re already too far gone. Despite everything, you don’t care. You decided long ago to allow yourself this happiness, this elation that only you gain from these experiences, these frosty-windowed mornings as you sit over steaming mugs of coffee. If this is what life has in store for you after everything that has happened, then maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay. 


End file.
